


Smile Again

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Just lots of fluff, One Shot, Reader-Insert, grieving reader, mild depression mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has been feeling down for a really long time, and when Dean finds out, he does everything he can to make them smile again. One shot,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile Again

Dean watched Y/N slide from the backseat of the Impala with a furrow in his brow.

Something was wrong, he could tell. And it was more than just the fact that it'd been a long hunt.

No, last month, one of Y/N's hunter friends had died on the job. For a day, she'd done nothing but hide in her room. No matter how many times Dean or Sam had knocked on the door, she'd refused to answer or open it.

She'd begun studying up on the case that had been left unfinished the next day. Her friend had left copies of her notes in an online locker in case something happened. Y/N had taken a few days to crack the passwords and sort through the pages of information.

After a week, Y/N started slipping downhill. There were dark circles beneath her eyes; like she wasn't sleeping enough. Her lips were chapped and bitten. She neglected eating, only remembering to do so when Dean prompted her to. He'd hoped that with the discovery of the creature they were hunting a a successful kill, that Y/N would drop out of her funk.

On the ride back to the bunker, she'd passed out in the backseat. Her brow still crinkled even as she slumbered. But Dean wasn't going to comment on it if she was finally catching up on rest.

Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder and stumbled towards her room. Her door shut with a soft click.

Dean scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and bid Sam a good-night.

In the peace of his own room, Dean toed off his boots and got comfy in a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt. The mattress soothed every ache in his body as he settled down. For a few minutes, he stared up at the ceiling with a frown.

He missed Y/N's smiles and laughter. She was always grinning or smirking or giggling. The girl was a comedian; always throwing out puns and jokes and wise-cracks. She hadn't so much as quirked a half-smile in a month. He missed her little giggles and loud bouts of unrestrained laughter.

Dean rolled over, hugging his pillow tightly. He'd make her smile tomorrow. And he'd go to any length to make her laugh.

 

 

You awoke slowly.

Your head swam a little and sleep made your eyelids stick together. You wiped at them groggily, a yawn making your jaw crack. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand revealed that it was well past the early morning hours.

You felt better than you had in the past month. Losing your friend had left a hole in your heart. It'd been difficult to try and fill. The hunt had helped, though. Avenging your friend's death and making sure that no more innocents were harmed certainly lightened the weight that had been dragging on your shoulders.

With a groan, you kicked back the covers and grabbed up your toiletry bag. The bathroom was all your's. You reveled in the silence and the clouds of hot steam. The tiny scratches and fading bruises were nearly gone.

Once dressed with your hair semi-dried, you padded down the bunker's hallway. Your fluffy socks muffled the sound of your footsteps. Something smelled incredibly good... Sweet and almost like...It _couldn't_ be.

You hovered in the doorway of the kitchen.

Dean was stood at the counter, a dish towel slung over one shoulder and a waffle iron sizzling by his elbow. A bowl with a few spots of batter on the lip waited close by. Sam was sat at the table with a plate full of blueberry waffles.

"Good morning," Sam glanced up from his breakfast and the newspaper in his hand.

"'Morning," You replied, finally descending the steps.

Dean turned around, a smile breaking over his face.

"'Morning, Y/N."

You nodded your head at the waffle iron.

"What's the occasion? Have I missed the birthday memo?"

"Nah. Just figured it'd be a nice change from corn flakes, you know? And, hey, we're off for the day."

Dean cracked the iron open and scooped the waffle out with a fork before ladling in more batter.

"Oh," You murmured.

"Well, come on, grab a plate. Take a seat. There's OJ in the fridge and we've got every topping known to man."

Dean wasn't lying. Beside the traditional maple syrup was blueberry and strawberry syrup, jam, orange marmalade, and peanut butter.

Without hesitation, you slathered your waffles with the peanut butter. Sam made a face as you folded one in half and took a healthy bite.

The blueberries burst in your mouth. The peanut butter complimented the sweetness perfectly. You couldn't help but let out a happy noise.

 

 

Dean had headed out before noon on another run.

He had several missions and he had a deadline to complete them by.

All night he'd wracked his head trying to remember what sorts of things Y/N liked.

Foods came to mind the easiest, really. She loved the weirdest things sometimes. Blueberry waffles and peanut butter being one of them. Then there was her thing with potato chips and ketchup. Once, he'd caught her dipping cucumber slices into ketchup, too.

Dean shuddered at that, nose wrinkling. But other than the weird stuff, she and Dean shared the same tastes.

They were a couple of meat-enthusiasts. Sam could have his pansy-ass salads any day, the two of them wolfed down burgers and fries like it was gonna go out of style. That was going to be Dean's last stop. He didn't want the food to get cold while he ran the errands. Nah, that wouldn't work.

Dean spent a half-hour pouring over the movie selection in the store. Action, comedy, romance, kid's...He settled on a couple of action movies and a romantic comedy just in case.

Then, it was onto the grocery store. Licorice whips and bags of M&M's were tossed into his basket before he hunted down the frozen food section. The hardest part was finding that damned ice cream she sang the praises of. Hardly any store ever had it.

But it must've been his lucky day, because the gold container was in stock.

With his purchases loaded into the back of the Impala, he picked up lunch and practically sped back to the bunker.

Just minutes after Dean got everything unloaded and stored, Y/N wandered into the kitchen.

Her eyes were still slightly shadowed, but they had some light back in them. Her hair was tucked away from her face. She was dressed in an over-large flannel Dean quickly recognized as one of Sam's old ones. The thing was near worn-through at the elbows, but she didn't seem to mind. The sleeves draped over her hands in an absurdly adorable way. Thick, fluffy socks scuffed over the floor.

She looked...All right.

There was a bit of color in her cheeks and when he smiled at her, her lips quirked up at the corners. That alone made Dean's nerves ease a little more.

"Whatcha got there?" Her voice was steadier, stronger than it'd been in months.

Dean ripped through the paper of the bags and started unwrapping food.

"Lunch, didn't feel like cooking after breakfast so I figured while I was out, why not grab something?"

Y/N stepped in closer, curiosity peaked. A happy little gasp escaped her lips.

"You _didn't_."

Dean grabbed plates from the cabinet.

"I did."

"And you got fries _and_ onion rings? Dean, you know how to spoil a girl."

And damn it if his chest didn't puff out a little bit at that. And she didn't even know what else was coming.

Sam appeared then, face crinkling at the sight of fried food. Dean shoved the plastic box of leaves his way.

"Got some rabbit food for you, too."

Y/N giggled quietly. Dean's head jerked up at the sound.

Something in the vicinity of his lungs lurched with a warm tug.

 

 

The day had been one of the best you could remember.

Breakfast had been great. Lunch; burgers and greasy sides, amazing. Dinner had been pizza made by Sam. It came out surprisingly good...But you suspected he'd had a helping hand.

And then there'd been the movie marathon on the couch. Licorice whips and M&M's were pelted across the room before the boys settled. Your face ached from smiling and you'd laughed until your sides hurt.

Just before the third movie, Dean shot a glance over at you. The flickering light from the tv played over his cheeks and made them seem sharper than they were. His eyes were a deeper green in the darkening room.

A while ago, you'd harbored quite the crush on him. You'd been enamored with his bravery and intelligence and looks. He was an amazing hunter and a good man. But when he'd showed little interest in you, you had stowed your feelings deep down.

And then, things had happened. You really hadn't felt much else but numbness and grief for the past few months. But the hunt had helped put those emotions to rest. You weren't one hundred percent better, and, to be honest, you didn't think you'd ever really be exactly the same person again.

Yet, everything that happened today had thawed you. The once-repressed feelings swelled in your belly before bubbling up beneath your chest. You quickly jerked your gaze away from Dean's.

Sam fiddled with the DVD machine and grabbed up the remote.

"Oh, hey, almost forgot," Dean's voice sounded a little too-cheerful. "Y/N, there's a present in the freezer for you."

Your brow furrowed. The freezer?

Dean raised one brow and sent you a small smirk.

"That's your queue to go see what I scored at the store."

You rolled your eyes at him before walking to the kitchen. A burst of frigid air gusted over your face when the door opened. There sat a familiar golden container that had your lips inching into a smile. _No way_.

That ice cream was damn near impossible to find. How the hell had he managed? However he had, it didn't matter right then.

You grabbed up a spoon and the container before scuffing back to the living room.

Sam had commandeered the couch; his huge body sprawled out over the seats. Dean glanced up and patted the cushions beside himself. The seat was awfully small with him there, too. Sitting with Sam was one thing. He was like a brother. But Dean, with the return of the feelings...

You settled down beside the older Winchester. Inevitably, you slid into his side.

It felt...nice. He was warm and solid and just so very present. It grounded you and eased your nerves.

You cracked the seal on the ice cream and carved out a spoonful. At the first taste, a happy moan slipped from your throat. It was just like you remembered; sweet and minty and tasted like childhood.

"That good, huh?" Dean's grumble in your ear had heat rising in your cheeks.

You nodded, scooping up another spoonful. Hesitating, you blinked up at him.

"You wanna try it?"

Dean shrugged.

"Why not?"

You raised the spoon to his mouth before you could think twice. His lips parted and sealed around the utensil before he pulled back and pursed them. His brow furrowed and he blinked. You waited with baited breath.

"That is good." He gave the container a longing look and you almost smiled.

"I can share, if you want."

Sam made a snorting noise from the couch.

 

 

Y/N darted from the room again on the journey for another spoon.

Dean watched her go, still licking his lips. Goddamn, now he understood the big deal over the ice cream. But better than that had been the faintest hint of her chapstick.

Dean had been struck by Y/N when they'd first run into one another. She'd been bright and full of life; always laughing and smiling. Jesus, she had different sorts of laughs. There was the quiet giggle and the loud pealing laugh that made anyone else smile. There was the way she'd snicker behind her hand and the way she'd slap a hand over her grin and her eyes would get all squint-y. She was always joking around or throwing out a sarcastic remark or quip.

It was so good to see her smiling again. To hear her laugh and watch her eyes light up. Dean had missed it. He'd missed _her_.

Just then, Y/N scuffed back into the room in those fluffy socks.

The couch dipped beneath her and she slid into his side again. He couldn't deny how good she felt there; small and soft and warm. The smell of her shampoo teased his nose. She wrapped one hand around the ice cream's container and took another spoonful of the pink ice cream.

The movie ran on, but Dean found himself paying more attention to Y/N than the tv's screen. The ice cream disappeared half-way through. She tried to warm up her hand by rubbing it.

Dean chuckled and watched her tuck it against his side with an adorable glare. The cold skin made him jump a little. He didn't mind, though.

The movie had reached the sappier bits by then. Sam had yawned and left with a grumble, leaving the two of them in the darkened living room with the flickering lights from the tv. The couple in the movie had just declared their love and were obviously about to kiss.

Dean glanced down at Y/N. Her brow was furrowed, her lashes fluttering. Her lip tucked between her teeth as her head tilted slightly. The tiniest sigh left her when the couple finally kissed.

The need to see if her lips really did taste like vanilla and mint nearly overwhelmed Dean.

Strands of her hair stuck to his shirt when she leaned away to fetch the remote and turn the tv off.

 

 

You turned, tossing the remote onto the couch.

A quiet gasp left you. Dean was leaned forward, jaw clenched and a crease between his brows.

He looked, for all the world, like he was about to kiss you. Which really was _absurd_.

This was Dean Winchester, renowned hunter and playboy extraordinaire. Certainly the very last thing he'd be thinking about was kissing you- Every thought came to a screeching halt as he leaned in.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the first touch of his lips against your's. Soft, warm, so slowly did they press against your's.

After only a second, he pulled away, breath tickling your cheeks. You leaned after him, blinking quickly. Dean's eyes were at half-mast, faint pink stained the skin beneath the freckles over his cheeks. His eyes flicked from you mouth to your eyes. Whatever he saw there must have been enough.

Then, he was leaning in again, one broad hand gently palming the back of your head.

He had a certain finesse when it came to kissing, Dean did.

He was slow and methodical and built everything into a low burn. His fingers teased your waist and brushed your cheeks and jaw. Dean pulled back slowly. The green ring of his irises was nearly devoured by the darkness of his pupils. His tongue peeked out and swiped over his lips.

You flushed at that and pushed yourself off the couch. At a loss for words, you fumbled around your brain while Dean watched.

During the movie, you'd put it all together. And your insides had flipped and flopped.

"Thank you, Dean."

That made him blink quickly.

"For what?"

"Everything. Today helped a lot. But you help me more. Thank you."


End file.
